Category Archives: Class Act

After all, that’s where I personally hide my ill-gotten gains; isn’t it where you stored yours? Zurich is flush with cash — but it’s nothing to Geneva, home to private banking with a twist.

Above is a picture of my favorite Geneva hotel. Oh, no, I never stayed there. But it is conveniently located on the waterfront in Geneva, and it has the most delightful bathrooms in the lobby. It’s like hitting the jackpot of potties.

But in all of the times I slipped in there to use the facilities, I never once got any money there. After the article I just read, I gotta say, I was gypped. Cheated. Scammed.

Maybe I should have gone to a restaurant for my pitt stop.

Because three different restaurants in the financial district of Geneva had their toilets stopped up with €500 notes, each of which is worth about $600. Yup. It’s true.

You won’t be at all surprised to learn that I am sitting here at my computer figuratively shitting bricks about the latest news about the latest attempt of the Senate GOP to repeal Obamacare.

I’ve already written to my Senators (who will vote against it, they’re both Dems), to Senator Collins and Murkowski urging them to stand fast. I sent a link to my story of how loss of insurance in 1982 led me to a suicide attempt (albeit a stupid one) to Senator John McCain. I’ve called everybody I can.

(202) 224-3121

Because if we don’t succeed, I will have to take drastic measures. And I know just what to do.

I recently read an article about a “Mad Pooper” who is on the loose in Colorado Springs, Colorado. She’s a jogger, who periodically drops her drawers and poops.

Now, in spite of 45 years of bowel problems, I do have a smattering of pride left. So I don’t want to do this.

But loss of insurance once led me to contemplate drastic action with a tetherball thing-y on Capitol property. Dropping my drawers and producing something nasty would be a breeze. And I will poop up and down the hallways of the United States Senate.

So call your Senators. Get them to vote AGAINST the Cassidy-Graham bill.

Yes, I realize that it’s been a while since I granted you all the benefits of my fake medical expert advice. Sorry.

It’s just that poop news has been rather crappy lately. What’s a specialist to do?

So for this post, I’m going to go out on a ledge. Write what I don’t know. Venture into a whole ‘nuther area of specialization. I feel qualified because this area of specialty is in the same, errrr, ball park. Geographically speaking. Certainly based on adolescent conversation, anyway.

You see, I read an article recently that inspired me to post after a pretty long hiatus

Now I don’t know about you, but this particular insert isn’t one I’ve personally ever considered. Maybe I’m just weird.

To be fair to the women who have done this mind-bending medical procedure, the procedure does not involve vaginal insertion of a wasp nest that looks like this one, with buzzing wasps going in and out:

Image by ABC Wildlife

On the other hand, maybe something buzzing and going in and out is the whole idea behind the procedure. But I digress.

Actually, the procedure involves ground up wasp eggs called “galls.”

This is a Getty Image, copied from the article

These are Oak leaf “galls” in case you want to make your own.

Galls are wasp larvae, left on the bottoms of oak leaves. They are ground up and inserted into the vagina to tighten it and to cleanse it. Okay …

As a fake medical expert, I think I can safely say that this sounds like a particularly shitty idea.

You know, it never occurred to me that there might be a need to warn women to not put wasp nests, even ground up wasp nests, into their vaginas.

Then again, I never thought it would be necessary to tell women to not vote for a man who believed he could grab their vagina because he was famous, either.

As a professional patient, I deal with nurses regularly. And believe it or not, just yesterday when I was having something embarrassing done to my butt, I remembered to say thank you to the nurses who helped me. Well, except for the one who was there when I woke up from anesthesia. I think I said something weird to her, but I don’t think she’ll recognize me with my pants on.

Anyway, it’s National Nurses Week. Say thanks, now while you’re feeling good. Because usually when they’re helping you, you don’t feel so good.

And I’m rerunning this post. Because I can. And to say thanks, again.

***

Nurses, The Beauty of Seamless Teamwork

Naturally, I was just settling down in my recliner for a nap when the commotion started.

Yesterday I had my Remicade infusion in the outpatient infusion center at the hospital. I was in one of my favorite spots — near the nurses station and the bathroom. The room is a bay of about 15 vinyl recliners designed for easy cleaning. Unfortunately, once the leg rests are up, getting out is nearly impossible. That’s why I like being by both the nurses’ station and the bathroom. No need for a change of clothes.

Anyway, as I was settling down for my nap with my curtain partially drawn when another patient walked towards me from the other end of the corridor. As she neared the nurses’ station, she looked up at the ceiling, and I saw her legs buckle, her arms flap out birdlike, and in slow motion she started to faint.

Luckily for Mrs. Smith, a nurse was there to catch her. That nurse, Brittany, called out for help, and I then witnessed one of the most professional exhibitions of teamwork I’ve ever seen.

Other nurses went different directions towards strategically located equipment which was quickly and efficiently brought to the aid of Mrs. Smith.

Within 1 minute, Mrs. Smith had 6 nurses as well as equipment protecting her privacy surrounding her. Each nurse had a role. Molly got Mrs. Smith to open her eyes, then to squeeze her hand, then to speak. Another nurse contacted the ER to send EMTs with a gurney to get Mrs. Smith to the ER. Another started her on a fluid IV while still another nurse took an EKG and yet another set up and constantly monitored vital signs, calling them out to the team.

Within 4 minutes, Mrs. Smith, awake and groggy, was wheeled out to the ER with Brittany, the nurse who originally caught her fall, holding her hand and walking with her.

*****

I can honestly say as an expert patient, that being sick sucks. Often we grouse at our doctors and nurses and other caretakers. We bitch about the hospitals, the costs, everything. Because we don’t want to need these services.

But, like Mrs. Smith (not her real name), I’ve been in need of help before. And when it’s you on the receiving end, it’s hard to appreciate the artistry.

I saw a the most amazing demonstration well-trained staff of caring professionals. I have a lot of faith in my healthcare professionals, but it was fascinating and wonderful watching when I’m not on the receiving end.

It’s all been said already. The GOP bill, TrumpDoesn’tCare, sucks. And frankly, I am unable to find the funny in the fact that the current leaders just sold us down the River Styx, on our way to hell.

I feel it personally, deeply. I honestly fear for the future of myself and everybody like me with a preexisting condition. Everybody with a chronic condition that requires expensive medicine. Mine costs $26K every six weeks. Over the 5 years of the “pool” the GOP added to the AHCA, I’ll use $1 million just by myself. Because of poop problems.

Folks keep telling me that I’m over-reacting, that this bill will never pass the Senate. And that’s true. But I have no faith that the Senate version will be much better, only different. After all, it is run by the folks who literally stole a supreme court seat. Does anybody really believe that these guys will do the right thing?

So clearly there is only one response that I have to Donald Trump and the House GOP.

If you hear about somebody doing this at the White House or on Capitol Hill, just pretend you don’t know me.

Today is Duncan’s birthday — his 3rd! He is a wonderful dog. Sweet, relatively obedient, and incredibly lovable.

The Birthday Boy!

But I went a bit overboard with doggie treats for this good boy this year. So I figured I’d share them with his friends at the park. In a way that would be good for the earth. In a way that positively shouts “DOG!” I made doggie goodie bags!

OK, in the stupidest way possible. I used biodegradable dog poop bags, and filled them full of delicious brown dog treats. That way, if I missed any of the morning friends Duncan and I usually walk with, I could leave one on their car.

A dog poop bag filled with brown stuff, left on a car. What could possibly go wrong?

Luckily for me, we saw his friends, and they and their parents were delighted by the goodie bags. They didn’t think me weird for

Making doggie goodie bags,

Using poop bags for party bags; or

Expecting that if they found one of these on their car that they would open it up and feed it to their dog.